


No One Better Than Yourself

by Harukawa



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Drabble, Dream Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukawa/pseuds/Harukawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And was it strange to find yourself attractive like this? Was it wrong to reduce yourself to a moaning mess, to <em>love </em>the sight of yourself completely lost to pleasure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Better Than Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted to my Tumblr: [izayabot](http://izayabot.tumblr.com)

There's no hint of surprise on his face as he stares at a perfect replica of himself, as another Izaya stares right back at him (because this is just a repeat, a cycle that just keeps happening over and over and over again). There's no exchanging of pleasantries (no more than a "So it's this dream again, hm?"), because what need is there to  _talk_ when the person you're talking to is yourself? What there  _is,_ is a brief struggle as he pushes the other up against the apartment wall, as he pins himself in place.

He presses kisses against his own collarbone, trailing up his own throat. Dark marks bloom against his other self's light skin as he licks and bites at flesh, drawing forth hushed noises and not-quite moans that say he wants  _more._ His lips meet his own moments later, aggressive and rough and  _painful_ as his teeth bite at the other's bottom lip (because he likes it rough,  _loves_ this). The other's mouth opens in response, and his tongue enters his doppelgänger's mouth (all-too familiar and oh-so foreign at the same time), the both of their tongues entwining as their hands start to explore more and more sensitive areas.

Their mouths part as he ducks down to kiss at the other's collarbone once more, his hands slowly trailing across the waistline of his reflection's pants before they start to undo the belt holding them in place. He slides the other's pants down, crouching down a moment later before tugging his other self's boxers down as well. The other Izaya is already hard (and of course he is, because who knew better how to get a rise out of him than he himself did?), and a not-quite muffled groan leaves the other's lips as he lightly kisses the head of his own erection.

There's another noise of frustration as his tongue slides out, as he teases the slit and slowly runs his tongue across the other's length. Strained demands of " _Stop teasing, just get **on** with it" _leave the other's lips as he continues to play with himself, as he gives himself small tastes of what is yet to come. And, finally, he obeys, taking his doppelgänger into his mouth, enjoying the strangled cry that leaves the other before he gets to work.

His hands move up to hold his own hips in place, to prevent himself from thrusting into his own mouth (because he knows if he doesn't he'll end up with more that he can handle, knows that the other won't _care_ if he hurts himself). Not-quite restrained moans and the quiet  _sucking_ sounds of his own mouth are the only sounds that can be heard now, his pace and intensity increasing as his other self demands  _more, more, i'm almost there now, please just--_

There's no warning before the other reaches release, before his mouth is filled with a bitter substance that he doesn't care for. He swallows it down regardless, wiping at his mouth before slowly standing, before looking himself over (and was it strange to find yourself attractive like this? was it wrong to reduce yourself to a moaning mess, to  _love_ the sight of yourself completely lost to pleasure?).

He wakes up not a moment later (and he knew he would, because he always wakes up immediately after), sighing to himself as he realises it's just him, that there  _are_ no other Izayas. He's hard (because he hadn't taken care of himself, just the other him), and another sigh leaves him as his hand reaches into his own pants to take care of himself.

This was fine though, he thinks to himself as he pictures his own face, as he remembers the noises that left the other. Tomorrow night would be _his_ turn.


End file.
